


Hunger of the Pine

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Dean, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Canada, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Journalist Castiel, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Misunderstandings, Outdoor Sex, POV Castiel, Pining Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8660761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: Red Lake could very well be the place where Cas found the peace he had searched for. Instead of honking cars, shouting people and indistinguishable music, he could hear only the whispering wind and the rustling of birds and small animals in the nearby thickets. “It’s perfect,” he whispered.
  Dean huffed. “You just wait a few days. You’ll be bored out of your mind in no time.”   Cas looked over and deliberately held Dean’s gaze for two seconds longer than socially acceptable – because he was masochistic like that and felt daring. “I don’t think so,” he said.





	1. TEMPERATURE DROPS BELOW ZERO

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been kicking around in my head for a few months now. It started with an idea for a Men in Trees-AU that quickly transformed into something else entirely. Anyway, that's the reason this is set in Canada. 
> 
> Full disclaimer: I've never been to Canada (though I'd like to see it one day) and know next to nothing about it. I checked all the details I could think of but I'm sure I still got a lot of them wrong. If you're Canadian I apologize in advance for that. 
> 
> My special thanks go out to the wonderful [mariesondetre](http://dixseptdixhuit.tumblr.com) for beta'ing and encouraging me to get this out into the world. 
> 
> I'm [@procasdeanating on tumblr](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/post/157403443091/12x12-coda). Come say hi!

 

 

Cas had never seen so many trees. Born and bred in New York City, the Central Park was the closest thing to a forest he encountered most of his days. He had been to Brasil and had seen the rain forest. He had been to Switzerland and seen the dark green valleys of the Alps, but this was something else.

He drove for hours through old trees that just showed the first hints of red and brown and yellow through all the vivid green. He could easily imagine to be the first human being in these vast woods if it weren’t for the endless road and the five or six other cars he had met.

At last, the forest receded and the first signs of human habitation were to be seen. Cas passed a darkened wooden sign welcoming guests to the beautiful town of Red Lake, population 1000. The number had been crossed out and written over more than once, but the 1000 was clearly visible.

The road took a turn left and led straight up into the center of Red Lake – a convenience store, the pub and a few shops lined the main street. Signs pointed anyone interested to the Heritage Center and the office of the local newspaper. Cas followed the latter and drove by slowly before he took the next street left up to the house of his aunt Mildred.

The small house was set back from the street and surrounded by an overgrown garden full of late-blooming flowers – cosmea, sunflowers and dahlias – behind a friendly wooden fence. The house was old but well maintained, painted in a pastel blue that faded here and there.

Cas parked his car on the driveway and got his duffel out of the trunk. When he closed it he was greeted by the telltale smile of his favorite relative.

“Castiel,” she said and wrapped him into a long and warm embrace that Cas just let himself sink into. “It’s so good to see you.”

The hug ended and Cas tried to hide his shock at seeing Mildred so close. They hadn’t seen each other in two years but she looked ten years older. She had told him she would love to have him over for a few weeks when Cas had called her in the middle of the night after Balthazar left – this time for good.

Now Cas saw that there was more to it. Mildred seemed lost and tired in that special way a serious sickness induced. She interrupted his worried pondering with a forced grin and ushered him into the house. They would find the time to talk about it later.

 

*****

 

They shared pleasantries over coffee and fresh apple pie. The family was fine, Cas’ brothers and sisters climbed the ladders in their companies, they married and got children just like their parents wanted them to. Cas was the black sheep, had always been.

He still worked as a freelancer and hadn’t made senior editor at the Times like his mom had always dreamed. Marriage and children were out of the question, too, at the moment, since Balthazar had crushed his heart so thoroughly that Cas couldn’t even imagine coming close to a forever deal with anyone ever again.

After fighting for his relationship for months, Cas had at long last given up, emotionally and physically drained, and he had done the only thing he could think of. He’d fled.

 

*****

 

Mildred offered her couch but Cas wasn’t having it. He took his bag and walked the short distance to the pub where he had booked the only guest room. He could have stayed out of town in the big lodge that housed up to 20 tourists – mostly hunters and hikers – but Cas wanted to stay close.

The bar was still closed this time of day, so Cas knocked at the door around the back that Mildred had described.  

When Mildred had moved here a few years ago, it had taken her only a few hours to become friends with Ellen Harvelle. They had been close ever since and Cas was curious to meet her.

The door opened and Cas blinked stupidly at the beautiful girl, maybe 25, that stood before him.

“Can I help you?” she asked with that special undertone that indicated that she’d rather not.

“Uhm, yes, I’m Castiel Novak. I’m here for the room?”

The girl’s demeanor changed and a small smile formed on her stern face. “Oh yes, mom told me. Come on in.”

She turned and didn’t wait for him. They climbed a narrow staircase that led to a hallway with two doors on the left and one on the right. She indicated the one on the right. “This is yours. On the other side are the office and a small storage room. You’ll have the floor mostly to yourself since we use the cellar for storage and mom hates paperwork, so… “

Cas still stood in front of the door. Belatedly he realized that the girl waited for him to open it. He did so, turned around in the doorframe and held out his hand. “Thank you …”

She grinned and took his hand. “Call me Jo.”

The room was a wide and open space that spanned almost the entire side of the house. The windows looked out to the backyard. A massive wooden bed, a chair and a desk, a built in closet and a cozy old couch made up the whole furniture of the brightly painted room. Cas fell in love with the view and the simplicity as soon as he crossed the threshold.

He put away a few things, took the laptop out of its case and set it up on the desk, before he lay down on the ridiculously soft mattress. His gaze landed on the massive fireplace on the far wall. He couldn’t wait to push the couch in front of it and bury himself in a book for a whole day.

The setting was perfect for other pastimes, too. Cas wouldn’t deny that he had entertained the thought that up north he would with any luck find something to distract him from his broken heart. Plaid-wearing men with rough voices and stubble and broad backs and strong hands – a man could dream, right?

He had come here without a plan, just with the impulse to get far away from New York, their mutual friends, the jobs that would make them cross their paths more often than Cas could stand at the moment. Canada had sounded perfect when he had the idea and up until now he didn’t regret it.

 

*****

 

The smell of roasted potatoes wafted through the air and led Cas to the open kitchen when he came back to Mildred’s an hour later. Four different pots rumbled on the ancient gas stove while Mildred put leafy salad in two bowls.

“You can set the table,” she said over her shoulder and pointed to the sideboard next to the small dining table.

Cas laid out plates and cutlery before he joined his aunt in the kitchen and peeked into the pots. The stew, potatoes, carrots and peas made his mouth water and he eagerly helped Mildred bring everything to the table.

The food was just as good as he remembered. When he was smaller, he and Anna had stayed with Mildred almost every summer while the older siblings went to exchange programs in Europe or learned Japanese or whatever else their parents deemed necessary for the future career at the time.

Cas thought the only times he ever felt like a kid, and a loved one at that, were those weeks with Mildred. He didn’t know how much he had missed her in the past years until he sat at her table again, digging into the hot stew.

On an impulse, he took her hand and squeezed it lightly. “I missed this,” he said.

She nodded and told him to stop talking and start eating.

 


	2. WORK ON PIPELINE TAKES LONGER THAN ESTIMATED

 

The massive bed proved to be as cozy as it looked. Cas could not remember sleeping so good and so long in months. He stayed under the thick down blankets even as the sun rose higher and shone into his room. But laziness wasn’t the only reason to stay in the warm nest of his blankets – his room was cold.

He let his eyes drift over to the radiator, squinting angrily because it had been its job to keep his new home comfortable. He debated never leaving the bed again, but there were sound arguments against that. For one, he had to use the bathroom.

With a sigh, Cas faced his fate and shot out from under the covers to get his clothes and step into them as quick as possible.

Ellen had told him yesterday when he had come back from Mildred that he could come down whenever he wanted and have breakfast. He found the big kitchen behind the bar and followed the sounds of glass and silverware tingling.

“I take it you slept well,” Ellen admonished with a smile while drying her hands.

“Better than I have in a very long time,” Cas answered, and he followed her to a table in the corner. Homemade jam, fresh bread and orange juice were waiting for him and Ellen told him to sit down while she made eggs and bacon.

Growing up in a home where most meals were ordered because his parents didn’t find the time to cook and didn’t deem it worth the hustle to find help for that, Cas had a deep love for homemade meals. He would help with breakfast tomorrow, he swore himself, but today he let Ellen cuddle him a bit.

When she came back with the eggs, he realized how starved he really was and shoveled forkfuls into his mouth before it got cold. Speaking of that.

“My radiator isn’t working. Is there something wrong with the heating?”

Ellen sat down on the other side of the table with two mugs of steaming coffee.

“Oh yes, that happened before. I’ll call someone to fix it later.” She cradled the mug between her hands. “Gas may be cut off in the next few days, though, they’re working on the gas line. So we should get the fireplace set up just in case.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” Ellen’s dark blond eyebrows shot up.

“Well, that’s gotta change if you want to stay here longer than a day. You’ll learn. I’ll tell Dean to show you.” She finished her coffee and stood up. “Enjoy your coffee.”

 

*****

 

Cas had just come back to his room when a loud knock made the door rattle.

“Come in,” he shouted, still halfway digging in his duffel to get his clothes out. When Cas looked over his shoulder, the air got punched out of him.

On the drive up north, Cas had envisioned steamy encounters in the wilderness that even in his head looked like the cover of a cheesy romance novel. If he could cast a perfect model for that cover, he would pick the man in front of him. Forest green eyes, a sharp jawline and the no nonsense haircut threw the stranger’s plush mouth and high cheekbones into stark contrast. The effect was intriguing. Handsome just didn’t cut it – that guy was gorgeous.

And he had asked Cas a question. Probably more than once.

Cas swiped his sweaty right hand on his jeans and went over to offer it to the beautiful stranger.

“I’m sorry. Castiel Novak.”

A broad hand, clearly used to hard work, found his own. “Dean. Winchester. But Dean’s okay.”

The firm handshake ended sooner than Cas would have liked. Dean turned around.

“Ellen told me you’re having trouble with the radiator?”

Without waiting for an answer, he went back to the door and retrieved a toolbox that he brought over to the offending piece of metal. He crouched down in front of it and Cas gaze flicked from the span of his back that challenged the seams on his red plaid shirt to his well-rounded butt over long thighs and back up to the shoulders.

Cas shook his head to clear his hazy thoughts. Before he started drooling, he turned and busied himself with his clothes again.

After a few minutes of silence Dean started talking. “So what brings you to Red Lake, Mr. Novak?”

“I needed a change of scenery, I guess.”

“Huh. So you got fired or dumped.”

Cas should be offended at that, but despite the harsh words, Dean sounded genuinely interested and empathetic.

“The latter.”

“That sucks.” Dean kept working. He let the air out of the radiator, checked the thermostat and turned it all the way up.

“Your thermostat’s broken. I’ll have to order a new one. Will take a few days.” He stood. “You’ll have to use the fireplace until then.”

Cas fiddled with a half folded pair of jeans and mumbled. “I don’t know how.” He didn’t have to look up to know that Dean was judging him for the lack of basic surviving skills. Sure that he would laugh and leave him to figure it out, Cas turned his back to him.

“Okay, come over. I’ll show you.”

Cas startled at that but went over to Dean who indicated to crouch beside him in front of the fireplace. Dean took a few small pieces of wood and two slightly bigger ones out of the big crate next to the window and built a stack in the middle of the broad slab of granite. Next came a piece of cardboard drenched in wax that he found beside the crate. He held out a box of matches.

“Light it.”

Cas did as he was told.

“You’ve got to start with very dry, small pieces and wait till you’ve got a solid layer of embers. Then you can stack bigger pieces on it. The large logs in the back of the crate should suffice for the whole night. That is, if you don’t sleep till noon.” He nudged Cas with his elbow. So Ellen had been gossiping already.

Cas was acutely aware of the body next to him and his absolutely obvious reaction to it. Taking into account how fast word would spread if Dean picked up on it he really had to get his act together if he didn’t want the town’s people to come after him with axes and shovels. He was quite sure that Dean wouldn’t take his ogling as a compliment. A pity, too, since Cas had a few more verbal ones neatly lined up in his head.

Cas stood after putting the next larger log into the flames.

“Thank you, Dean. I think I’ll manage.” His voice sounded cooler than he meant to. That couldn’t be helped.

Maybe it was better for all of them if Dean thought he was the cliché arrogant New Yorker. Better than the truth anyway – that Cas was a mediocre journalist without a job and a clue about what to do with his life other than having improper thoughts about the painfully heterosexual Carhartt model that fixed his heating.

Dean put his tools back into his box and was gone a minute later with a casual “see ya” and a tip to an imaginary hat.

Cas took a deep breath. He had to get his libido under control ASAP if he didn’t want to make of fool of himself.

 

*****

 

Cas had promised Mildred to come over to the Gazette this afternoon. Mildred ran the local newspaper almost on her own – a few freelancers contributed stories and guy named Charlie or something who was the only one in town with programming skills came over twice a week to update the website.

The office was situated on the main street just a few houses down from the pub. Cas let the fire go out – the days in late September weren’t warm but he wouldn’t have to keep the fire going all day.

He took his jacket and went out into the street. The people out and about greeted him friendly and with curious eyes. He smiled at the thought that he would be the most interesting topic in the next days and waved at the onlookers before he vanished into the Gazette’s office.

Mildred sat a large desk in the middle of the room.

One wall was used as a giant pinboard with thousands of scraps and pictures. A card with a picture on black drew his gaze: Nick Braeden, 1975 – 2010. He had been a good looking man, mischievous grin and warm blue eyes.

Mildred stood next to him. “Stomach cancer. Left wife and kid behind. It’s a story I had to write too many times in the last years. I’m sick of it.”

She took his arm and led him to a corner with chairs and a formica table that was peppered with the stains of generations of spilled coffee and forgotten cigarettes.

“I haven’t invited you solely out of the goodness of my heart, you know.”

Cas nodded. He had wondered about that but didn’t want to pry.

Mildred smiled. She looked tired.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I need a new hip. I’ve lived with the constant pain for a year now and I can’t postpone it any longer. I can’t leave the Gazette alone though. Charlie and Garth are a great help but they can’t run a newspaper, even a small one as this.”

“So you’re asking me… what exactly?”

“To take over as editor for a month, maybe six weeks till I’m back on my feet.” She took his hand. “I understand if you don’t want to.”

Cas sat back but left his hand in hers. He didn’t like to be overrun like this.

For a journalist, his aversion to surprises was his biggest weakness – or maybe his strength because he put a lot of work into preventing them by researching meticulously.

On the other hand, he couldn’t really blame his aunt for waiting until he got here before she dropped the bomb. There was a good chance he would have stayed in New York if she had asked him over the phone. Now that he had seen the town and met some of its inhabitants (some of which may or may not have been on his mind the whole day), he could see himself saying yes to Mildred’s proposal.

He had wanted to stay a few weeks anyway, and work would keep him from wallowing in his early midlife crisis.

“I’ll do it. When will you leave?”

“I have to talk to my orthopedist, but I’ll go as soon as possible. My hip is killing me.” She flinched and got back up. “I’ll show you around.”

 


	3. NEW EDITOR AT RED LAKE GAZETTE

 

 

Cas brought his laptop and cleared a desk in the back of the room. He could overlook the main street from here, and as there wasn’t much work to be done before his laptop was hooked up with the newspaper's intranet, he busied himself with watching the townsfolk of Red Lake go about their day in front of his window.

A bright red ponytail caught his gaze. It was attached to a girl wearing an obnoxious mix of prime colors. She bounced with every step – nearly dancing, completely lost in the music she heard on gigantic headphones.

Cas wasn’t surprised that her way led straight to him. Three minutes later, he was introduced to Charlie Bradbury, IT nerd extraordinaire, freelance writer and one of Cas’ best friends to be.

The last one would take time though.

Right now Charlie shook his hand with a critical squint that transformed her whole face.

“So you’re our new boss?”

“I… I don’t see it like that?” Cas stuttered. He hadn’t thought about how Mildred’s plan must look to the other people involved. “I’ll just help out as an editor.”

Charlie hummed low in her throat. “Mildred says I gotta set up your hardware.”

“If you could be so kind,” Cas answered and showed her to his desk.

 

Two hours later, Charlie – and Garth who had joined them not long after Charlie had finished the setup – had brought Cas up to speed on the more important stories they had worked on over the last year and given Cas a first glimpse of what the next weeks would look like: extensive photo stories about the Halloween party at the Heritage Center, news and tidbits about opening hours and sales at the local stores.

In no way Pulitzer worthy journalism, but useful to about four thousand people in the area. Charlie, Mildred and Garth took pride in that and Cas thought they had every right to.

 

*****

 

Dean called around noon. He had found a new thermostat sooner than he thought, and would come over around four, if that was alright for Cas? Cas agreed and hung up. Charlie watched him closely.

“Dean as in Winchester?”

Cas nodded. Why on earth did she look at him like she knew something? Charlie chewed on the inside of her cheek, and Cas wondered what was going through her head in that moment. Had he been too obvious? Oh dear lord, was he blushing? No.

The silence grated on his nerves. “What,” he bit out.

“Nothing,” Charlie chirped. “It’s nice to hear that you made friends already.”

“He’s not my friend. He’s just fixing my radiator.”

“Oh yes, Dean’s real good with his tools, I hear,” Garth chimed in.

Garth chuckled while Charlie glared at him. Cas chose to ignore them both.

 

*****

 

Three o’ clock came around and Cas called it a day. He rinsed his mug and went to the door, still ignoring the whispered comments and Garth’s whooping “have fun!”

When he came back to the pub, Ellen was just cleaning the stairs and told him to get a slice of pie in the kitchen. Of course he didn’t say no to that.

He found the pie on the small table in the back – along with Dean and Jo. They smiled at him before going back to eating the gooey goodness directly out of the pan. Jo handed Cas a fork and indicated that he should join them.

“We have to hurry up. Ellen will have our heads if she sees this.” Jo smiled mischievously and dug in again. Cas didn’t have to be asked twice. He took a forkful and couldn’t stop a moan when he tasted the first bite.

“That good, huh?” Dean grinned at him and winked.

Cas only nodded and brought another big bite to his mouth. Minutes later, the pie was gone. They leaned back, stuffed full.

“So, how did the fire making go?” Dean asked innocently. Jo laughed out loud.

“I can’t believe you never did that before,” she chuckled.

Cas tried for nonchalance and failed. “I never had to,” but it sounded weak even to his own ears. “I don’t know how to fish, or to chop wood or to plant a tree. We have other hobbies where I come from.”

Dean and Jo both stared at him open mouthed. “Really?” Dean asked.

“Really.” Cas couldn’t help getting a tad defensive. “I speak six languages fluently, studied philosophy and literature and I can fence. There wasn’t time in my childhood for anything outdoorsy.”

Dean leaned back laughing.

“One should think after all that high education of yours you would not use the term outdoorsy, but whatever. Can’t be helped now that your parents failed to teach you the really important things, but I’ll be damned if I let this go on. Saturday, three pm at my house.”

Cas was still reeling from Dean’s little speech.

“For what?” he croaked.

“You, my friend, will learn how to chop wood.”

 

*****

 

The next morning, _Thursday_ Cas reminded himself, two days to Saturday but who is counting, he came into the office early.

While he waited for the first batch of coffee to run through the ancient machine, his gaze drifted back to Nick Braeden’s obituary. Mildred had mentioned exceptionally high cancer rates in the region, but as far as he could tell, she had left it at that.

The coffee machine huffed and stuttered in the back, but Cas ignored it. He sat down on the big desk and started digging.

Mildred came in around nine and made a face at the mess on Cas’ desk. Half of the pinboard had been cleaned just to make room for printouts and messy notes.

Instead of asking him, she went over and looked at his work.

“So you found a story?”

“Yes. It’s unbelievable that nobody started asking questions before. So many people died of cancer in the last years and I’ve only got the official reports. There must be hundreds more in the last years alone.” He raked a hand through his already messy hair. “Why didn’t anyone get suspicious?”

Mildred turned to him and looked him in the eye without saying anything.

“They know,” he whispered.

“They suspect,” she said. “The rates started going up when the gold mine was taken over by a new company. Around here – you don’t mess around with them. It’s the only big employer.”

“Fuck,” Cas said with feeling.

“Yeah.”

 


	4. SUMMER SALE AT JOHNSON’S HARDWARE STORE

 

The air started to get chilly whenever he stepped into the shadows of the trees along Waterfront Road.

The walk over to Dean’s house would take about 30 minutes and Cas enjoyed the fresh air and the soft sunlight.

Wearing old jeans and his newest possession – a dark blue and brown plaid shirt that kept the cold air away and let him blend in a bit better with the locals – he let his jacket dangle from his hand.

His old leather hiking boots had been stored away for years, but when he dug them out a few weeks ago, they fit still perfectly, so he kept them. Strolling along the quiet road, he had a sudden sense of peace and freedom that he couldn’t remember feeling for a long time.

The prospect of spending the afternoon with Dean Winchester was just the cherry on top.

After a slow rise in the gravel road and a little bend, Cas finally stood in front of Dean’s house. Old wooden beams made up the walls of the large cabin.

A wide veranda surrounded it and was furnished with an eclectic mix of old chairs, a cozy looking couch and a porch swing. For all intents and purposes, the house should look like a dump with this wild mix, but instead it looked deliberate. It looked like a well lived-in home.

A big black dog emerged from somewhere on the porch and stood on the front step, watching Cas who took his hands out of his pockets and held them out in what he hoped would be recognized as a peace offering.

He didn’t even see the dog unfreeze before it was on him, sniffing his hands and wagging his tail furiously. Cas reached out and patted its side awkwardly, relieved that he passed this test without losing a limb.

The front door opened.

“You are the most useless guard dog in the whole universe, Bob. I should trade you for some geese,” Dean muttered while he came over. Bob took that as a compliment if Cas read his wagging tail and the small happy noises right.

Dean leaned down and dug his hand deep in Bob’s fur while he looked up to Cas.

“I hope he behaved himself?”

“Perfect gentleman,” Cas grinned back.

“That’s good to hear.” He straightened back up and added: “Let’s get to it, then, shall we?”

 

*****

 

At the back of the house Cas found a big vegetable garden, rows of neatly stacked fire wood and a heap of fresh logs already cut down to lengths that most stoves could handle.

Dean’s axe stuck in an enormous trunk that went up to the middle of Cas’ thighs. The surface was battered with axe marks, the wood around them darkened with age.

“So you’ve never done this before?” Dean knew the answer to that, they had talked about it, but Cas confirmed it with a nod.

“Huh,” was all Dean offered as a comment, and Cas could imagine all too well what he was really saying here. _How on earth could one reach his age without ever chopping firewood?_

“Okay, come over.”

Dean let him stand close to the block and take a big step back. He gave Cas the axe and let him play around with it for a few minutes to learn the weight and the feel.

“This is a splitting axe with a medium size. It has a wooden handle with a really good grip but you should grab it properly nonetheless. The head is hand forged. She is Swedish and I love her and I want you to treat her like a lady, alright?”

Cas chuckled but Dean’s face stayed serious. Cas schooled his features and muttered “I understand.”

Dean made Cas swing the axe over his head a few times and let him bring her down on the block to get a feel for it. He corrected his grip on the handle, controlled his stance and then finally put a piece of wood on the block.

Cas took aim and brought the axe down. It stuck in the wood not even an inch in.

Dean snorted. “You pulled that one. Here, let me show you.”

He took the axe from Cas, found his footing, took aim and swung the axe down in one swift arc. The metal sliced through the wood like butter, two perfect halves falling down from the block.

Cas was torn between admiring how absolutely stunning Dean looked and feeling inadequate for failing at such a seemingly easy task. The first emotion won when Dean turned to him and the autumn sun made his eyes glow from within.

Cas’ mouth went dry. Dean was arguably the most handsome man he had ever met, a compelling mix of rugged and pretty that drew Cas in like a moth to the flame.

In this moment Cas would have given anything to have these strong hands on him, have Dean grab him and kiss him breathless.

God, that mouth…

“Cas, you still with me?” Dean eyed him warily.

“Yes, uhm. Of course.”

He took the axe from Dean to gloss over the fact that he had zoned out over the mental image of them making out furiously against the old shed in Dean’s backyard.

Dean looked at him long and hard. He seemed to debate saying something but in the end he stepped behind him and covered Cas’ hands with his.

The long line of his body was only inches apart from Cas’ back and he swore he could feel the warmth of his skin through four layers of cotton. Dean’s breath met his cheek when he spoke.

“I’ll show you again.”

Cas tried to ignore the heat in his stomach, the goosebumps on his neck and the new sheen of sweat that broke out between his shoulder blades and under his arms. Dean lifted their arms together.

“You don’t really need to put force in it – just let the weight of the axe do its thing,” Dean advised and showed Cas again and again in slow motion.

It worked. Cas began to understand the motion better.

The third time Dean swung the axe up, Cas took control of the weight and it brought Dean’s body flush with his back. A surprised breath escaped him and Dean made a sound that Cas couldn’t pinpoint for the life of him.

Dean’s next actions were clearer – he stepped back and mumbled “you should practice on your own now,” before he turned around to get another log.

 

*****

 

They worked in tense silence for a while before Dean started explaining again, correcting Cas with steady and sure hands, told him which tree this and that piece was from and how long it had to dry before they could be used.

Cas tried to take it all in and memorize the details, but only half of it stuck.

He kept his ogling to a minimum – at least he hoped so – but now and then his gaze would linger on Dean’s hands, his jawline or his ass when he bent down to get the freshly chopped pieces of firewood to put them on the growing stack.

The tang of pine and the earthy smells of moss and bark would always remind him of these hours.

The muscles in his back burned and his hands began to chafe on the handle of the axe, sweat drenched his shirt and dripped down his neck, but Cas could not remember when he had last been so content.

Apart from the inconvenient bursts of lust that no person with an appreciation for the male form would be able to suppress, being with Dean was easy.

When the sun reached the tops of the trees that surrounded Dean’s garden, they had built up an impressive amount of chopped wood.

Cas let the axe fall down into the old chopping block and grinned at Dean. “That was very rewarding.”

“Yeah, it’s always good to see the merits of one’s work like that, isn’t it?” He turned to the setting sun. “Enough for today. How about a beer? You earned it.”

Cas hesitated only a second before he accepted the invitation.

One beer, and then he would be gone.

 

*****

 

Sitting on Dean’s porch, Bob curled by his feet, a cool beer in his hand and Dean quiet and tired by his side, Cas thought that Red Lake could very well be the place where he found the peace he had searched for.

Instead of honking cars, shouting people and indistinguishable music, he could hear only the whispering wind, Bob’s snoring and the rustling of birds and small animals in the nearby thickets.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered.

Dean huffed. “You just wait a few days. You’ll be bored out of your mind in no time.” His voice was warm and understanding.

Cas looked over and deliberately held Dean’s gaze for two seconds longer than socially acceptable – because he was masochistic like that and felt daring.

“I don’t think so,” he said and let his eyes drop to Dean’s mouth for another unacceptable second before he got up, put his empty bottle in the bin next to the door and left with a soft “goodnight”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The axe Dean uses is a Gränfors splitting axe which really is as great as he describes it. I'm not getting paid to say that.


	5. WINNERS PRESENT SCIENCE FAIR PROJECTS

 

Monday morning, Mildred came over to say goodbye. A neighbor would bring her to the airport so she could fly over to Winnipeg for surgery. After that, she would stay for a week or two before starting rehab at a facility nearby.

Cas sat together with Garth and Charlie to discuss their workload and how Cas could fit in most efficiently. He hadn’t layouted anything in years, so Charlie took over the ads section, while Cas would man the phones and visit the evening events.

When all tasks where assigned, he leaned back and asked them to stay a few minutes longer.

“I know you haven’t taken on any major stories in the past years and I’ll fully understand if you don’t want to, but I’d like to dig a bit deeper into Nick Braeden’s death and the illness that lead to it.”

Charlie and Garth shared a look he couldn’t decipher, seemed to come to an understanding, then looked back at him.

“We’re in,” Charlie said. “What do you need?”

Cas’ shoulders sagged with relief. “More info. We need something personal to start from. How did Braeden get sick? How long had he worked at the mine? What’s the stance of his friends and family on it?” Cas leaned in and held Charlie’s gaze. “Good stories always start with people.”

Charlie’s eyes flitted to the side when she answered. “You could ask Dean.”

“Dean? Why?”

“He and Lisa were high school sweethearts. Nick was one of his best friends, even after he and Lisa became a thing. When Nick died… Dean took care of Lisa and Ben.”

She stopped. Cas had learned in the last days that Charlie didn’t like to gossip and had a very sensible moral compass when it came to people’s boundaries. Cas admired that, but right now, he desperately wanted to hear the rest of the story.

Garth had no qualms about such things, so he took over.

“He moved in with them for maybe a year. Didn’t work out. But he and Ben are still close. And he’ll know everything there’s to know about Nick’s work and how he got sick.”

Cas nodded and thanked them for their input. “I’ll start with Lisa Braeden, I think.”

He couldn’t envision talking to Dean about this, it felt too soon, too personal. They had formed a tentative friendship and Cas didn’t want Dean to think he would exploit that.

He assigned research jobs to Charlie and Garth. They would use whichever downtime they had at the office for digging up and going over medical reports, studies on water pollution and frequently used chemicals by gold mines, whichever data they could get their hands on without Adler Enterprises or anyone else in town noticing.

Cas had faith in them both. Garth had a loose mouth but a good heart, so Cas was confident he’d be able to keep this under wraps.

As for Charlie – Cas didn’t usually bond with people in such a short time but he trusted her implicitly.

 

*****

 

Cas talked to Lisa Braeden on the phone and asked if he could come over to talk about a school project Ben participated in.

He would clear up the lie as soon as he got there, but until then Charlie, Garth and him had agreed to not talk about their story over the phone. Better safe than sorry.

The Braeden’s home was a typical three bedroom house on the outskirts of town, set along a narrow road that was lined with a dozen other buildings that looked exactly the same.

The garden was well-maintained but kept simple and practical. Potted flowers had survived the first cold nights near the entrance and greeted Cas with friendly colors.

Seconds after his first knock, the door was opened by a maybe ten year old boy with a mop of brown hair and a skeptical look that didn’t seem fitting for his age. It reminded Cas that Ben Braeden had already deeper knowledge about the dark parts of life than any kid should have.

Cas introduced himself and took Ben’s hand when offered. The firm grip made Cas’ heart clench. Ben had been forced to grow up too fast.

Ben led him to the back of the house where Cas was surprised to find an overgrown sunroom, a rarity in this area and the kind of luxury only a few people could afford. A lemon tree dominated the room that was made out of large glass panes on three sides, bursting with deep yellow fruit.

Cas recognized the dark haired woman in one of the chairs as Lisa Braeden. She stood and came over to greet him.

They made small-talk for a while until Ben left to get back to his homework. Lisa fixed Cas with a calculating stare.

“I take it you’re not here to talk about school projects,” she mused.

“No, I’m not.” Cas had debated for hours how to approach this subject and opted for bluntness.

“I’d like to talk to you about the circumstances that led to the death of your husband.” He tried to take the sting out of his words with his voice, but Lisa flinched nonetheless.

Lisa seemed to appreciate the honesty, though. She eyed him warily, but didn’t close herself off immediately. Cas could see that she had questions she didn’t want to ask yet.

So he started by telling her how he stumbled into his new job and found the story. He told her that he thought it his responsibility as a journalist not to look away when he came across an injustice. And he told her that he wanted to help if she wanted to right this wrong.

Lisa listened, and if it hadn't been for the white of her knuckles where her hand grabbed her knees, Cas would have deemed her completely calm and collected.

The room fell silent for minutes.

“What do you need to know?”

 

*****

 

Nick Braeden had started working at the mine just after school. In 1995, Adler Enterprises had taken over the mine from a local company.

Adler, founded in the 80s, had bought mines all over the world and now owned twenty gold mines in Canada alone.

Nick had made his way up through the hierarchy to first foreman and had been responsible for over a hundred men when he got sick.

Two years had lain between the diagnosis of stomach cancer and his death.

While Nick Braeden had fought and lost the battle for his life, the gold prize had skyrocketed, but the profit did nothing for the workers in the area.

Wages stagnated, and unlike the previous owner, Adler didn’t seem to think it was their responsibility to give something back to the community – no investments in infrastructures or health care, not donations to schools, nothing.

Cas couldn’t even imagine being forced to work for a company that thought so little of its workers, with no chance to get away because this was the only job they got. As a freelancer, he had always had stretches without projects, but he had known that he could find a new job whenever he wanted.

Nick Braeden had given his life for a company that couldn’t care less whether he lived or died, and Cas was determined to fight for what little recompense he could give his family.

 


	6. NUMBER OF OVERNIGHT GUESTS STAGNANT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter - as promised. The next one could take a week. Life is busy atm. 
> 
> Tell me how you liked it?

 

 

“I’m not getting in there.”

Dean stood in the ridiculously small boat, both arms stretched out for balance after he had put his fishing gear under one of the seats.

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s a storm forecast and the water is freezing and this isn’t a boat, it’s death by hypothermia about to happen and I’m not getting in there.” Cas crossed his arms in hopes of giving his words more weight. It probably didn’t work.

“Move and stop whining. This is one of the best and most comfortable fishing boats in the area. It’s practically unsinkable.” He held out his hand.

Cas knew with every fiber of his being that this was a BAD idea, but his hand reached out on its own and gripped Dean’s warm palm. 

He stepped into the rocking boat with a silent prayer on his lips.

 

*****

 

Thank god the lake was quiet, and he got used to the gentle bumps caused by Dean’s rowing pretty quick. When they reached the middle of the lake, Dean put away the rows and reached for his gear.

He had brought two rods and took one out to show Cas how to apply the bait to the hook. Cas tried for himself and felt his stomach sink when he first stuck a wriggling maggot on the hook.

Dean laughed at him good-naturedly.

"Yeah, I never really got used to that, either. But it can’t be helped.”

With bait and weights and swimmers applied to Dean’s liking, there was nothing much to do other than sit and wait.

Cas let his mind drift to Lisa and the medical reports she had given him. Nick’s doctors had pointed out that the yearlong contact to arsenic, aluminum powder and other toxic substances could have played a part in his sickness, but Adler Enterprises had stated that their safety precautions ruled this out.

Nick must have been exposed to the toxins before they took over, was the unofficial statement. There had never been an official one since nobody had dared ask.

Cas still hadn’t talked to Dean about it, partly because he didn’t want to have this dark topic between them, partly because Lisa had asked him to keep a lid on his investigation until he found something to work with.

Their conversation had somehow drifted to Dean without him consciously steering it in that direction. Lisa had told him about Dean’s construction for the sunroom that used the moist warmth from the house for the plants with minor energy losses. Cas had learned that Dean still came over to do chores around the house and that he trained Ben’s football team.

Her voice had been full of admiration and gratitude, but Cas could see that she still loved her late husband. Dean hadn’t had a chance and Cas heart bled for him even when a small selfish part of him was glad that Dean was unattached.

“We can talk, you know? You just have to keep your voice low and steady,” Dean said.

Cas, completely lost in thoughts he wouldn’t and couldn’t share with Dean, tried to think of something to say.

 “Do you have any family?” he asked finally, because this seemed to be a polite and safe topic.

“Had. My mom died when I was four. Took my dad 20 years to finish his coward’s suicide. Drunk himself to death.” Dean looked past Cas over the water.

“I … I’m sorry, Dean.” No wonder Dean and Ben got along so well. Dean’s childhood had been cut brutally short, too.

“Yeah.”

“Any siblings?”

A small and bitter smile formed on Dean’s lips.

“Hmmh, a younger brother, Sam. He went to college nine years ago, took the first chance to get out of the mess we called our family and never looked back. Sometimes I wonder if should have done that, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. There’s always one more thing you want to try to change things. I did them. Didn’t work.”

“I shoudn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s always good to have that out of the way, sad life story and all. Someone in town would have told you sooner or later. They love the drama.”

Cas watched him, stunned into silence. He wanted to tell Dean that whatever the problem had been, it couldn’t have been his fault. Wanted to assure him that he couldn’t think of anything a kid could do to cause any of the things Dean had told him.

But he also knew that Dean wouldn’t listen. Cas was a stranger who had just showed up here and had no right to intervene.

And so he did the only thing he could think of to show his support. He stayed quiet and gave Dean space to clear his dark thoughts.

“Thanks,” Dean said after a long while.

“For what?”

“Not prying. Usually people get all flustered and want to know _why_ and try to placate me, telling me _surely it couldn’t have been that bad_. So thanks.”

“You’re welcome. If you ever want to talk about it or tell me more, I’ll listen.”

“Yeah. I don’t think so. But thanks for offering.”

 

*****

 

They caught two trouts and a massive bass before the dark clouds that had formed over the day opened and drenched them in minutes.

Dean rowed back as fast as he could and Cas took over for the last part – he had been on the rowing team of his university and he was proud that he finally found something he could do. They both grabbed random pieces of equipment, Dean took the bucket with the fish and then they ran toward the house.

Dean stopped on the porch and started peeling off his soaked clothes. Cas hesitated.

“Come on, Cas, I don’t want all that drenched stuff on my floor. We’ll leave them outside and dry off inside. Lose these.” He tugged unceremoniously at Cas’ jacket. With a sigh, Cas turned around and stripped down to his underwear.

Dean chuckled at his modesty, but that wasn’t the reason for Cas’ behavior. Dean had been down to his undershirt already and Cas didn’t feel stable enough to watch him proceed.

Yes, he was freezing and this was the least sexy kind of undressing short of getting cut out of your clothes after an accident but well… the sudden drop in his stomach and the way his skin burned in spite of the cold indicated that his body didn’t care.

“You comin’,” Dean asked, and he opened the door.

Cas steeled himself and turned. Dear god, that back was even more stunning than he had imagined (which he had, more than once). Thick muscle roped over the broad shoulders and down along Dean’s spine. His skin was tan and freckled with only a hint of a line where a t-shirt would end. That meant – don’t go there – he spent a lot of time outdoors half-naked.

Cas had to suppress a moan at the thought. His mind hadn’t been this focused on the physical aspects of another human being since he’d been a teenager and he was well aware that he should be embarrassed. But a selfish part of him kept arguing that there was nothing wrong with enjoying the view – and it wasn’t like he could do anything about it anyway.

Dean went straight to the bathroom and threw a towel out at Cas before drying himself off with efficient movements.

Next stop was the bedroom which he left clad in dry boxer briefs and an ancient bathrobe. He handed Cas a pair of grey sweatpants and an threadbare AC/DC-shirt.

“You can change in the bathroom. I’ll make us some coffee.”

Cas tried not to stare at the broad strip of skin exposed by the bathrobe which for some reason didn’t have a belt anymore. He failed at keeping his eyes up but managed to lift his gaze back to Dean’s face before he mumbled a suspiciously deep “thank you” and retreated to the bathroom.

He closed the door and leaned against it, heaving a deep breath. His wet underwear clung uncomfortably to his stubborn, already filling dick. He peeled off the fabric and dried himself off fast and rough while thinking back to the maggots to keep his mind from drifting.

It worked.

Cas put on the sweatpants and the t-shirt and inhaled deep before he stepped back into the living room.

He went over to the old but meticulously clean kitchen where Dean – who had blessfully put on sweatpants and a shirt, too – just filled two beaten mugs with steaming coffee. He handed one to Cas and leaned back on the counter.

“You got any plans for today?”

Cas shook his head.

“Then we should put the bass in the oven for dinner.”

Dean’s tone was casual, like this was something he did every day. And maybe he did, maybe eating the catch together was part of the ritual when you went fishing? Cas wouldn’t know.

“Okay,” he said and added “but I’m not that good at cooking.”

“No problem. You may assume the simple chores while I do the magic.” He wriggled his hands around his mug in a poor attempt at spirit fingers, and Cas had to smile.

Just like when they had been splitting wood, they fell into an easy rhythm right away. Cas peeled potatoes, Dean cleaned the fish and put it in the oven with olive oil, lemon and herbs.

They bumped into each other now and then, and every time Cas tried to memorize the feeling of Dean’s warmth like a pathetic teenager with a unrequited crush.

When Dean took out various jars with spices out of the cabinet above Cas’ head and leaned into him with his chest pressed to Cas’ arm, Cas entertained the thought – if only for a second – that it was deliberate.

 

*****

 

All the food was finally prepared and they just had to wait for the fish to cook for another thirty minutes.

They sat down on the dinner table that separated the kitchen from the living room with a bottle of white wine that Dean had unearthed from somewhere in the pantry.

Cas took a sip and eyed the label dubiously – no hint at the variety or the area the grapes came from, but the liquid was cool and fresh and he had always thought people put too much trust in labels anyway. Time to shed some of his ingrained elitist thought patterns, he thought, and downed the “wine” before it got warm.

Time flew by with them talking about nothing in particular.

Dean had an endless supply of stories from his various jobs – besides helping out at the pub as a barkeeper and maintenance guy, he fixed cars at Singer’s auto repair when he was needed, and took odd jobs for several other businesses in town.

Cas enjoyed hearing about the squabbles and affairs Dean was privy to just because people tended to forget about him being in the room. Dean had found the perfect solution to not betray people’s trust by making up fake names for every new story.

Cas was sure he would be able to find out who the real protagonists were but he played along. When Dean was in the middle of a saucy anecdote about Mrs. Hudson and her neighbor Mr. McKagan, the timer beeped and they got up to get the food.

They sat down again in amiable silence and congratulated each other after the first bites of the delicious meal. With a start, Cas realized that he hadn’t thought about ripping Dean’s clothes off for about an hour.

Instead he had caught himself more than once before reaching out and taking his hand.

Something warm and heavy unfolded in his chest. Dean’s deep laughter and the crinkles around his eyes made it flutter and expand.

Cas recognized the symptoms, even if he hadn’t experienced them in a long time.

 _Oh great_ , he thought, _just great_. This was really getting out of hand.

 


	7. 10 COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS ABOUT GLOBAL WARMING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for all the nice comments, for subscribing and leaving kudos. Your support really means so much!

_The_ _apartment looks the same but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Cas takes in the wide space full of clear cut angles and concrete. They’ve chosen the furniture together – all cool modern lines highlighted with vintage Danish design pieces. A few sculptures from an upcoming artist fail to give the room an individual touch._

_In the dim light he doesn’t see Balthazar until he speaks._

_“I’ll be gone in the morning.”_

_Only now Cas registers the suitcase by the stairs._

_Moments like this should feel earthshattering, he thinks dimly, this final defeat should happen with a bang. An old building that is brought down with an armful of TNT, spectators standing around with phones held up to ban the picture for eternity._

_He only feels numb._

_Balthazar gets up and takes his suitcase into his right hand. He stands there like he is waiting for something. Cas can’t think of anything he could still be waiting for._

_Cas has given everything, and maybe Balthazar has, too, but it wasn’t enough and now all they have are a few possessions that could be anybody’s, some faded good memories – like pictures touched too often by hands desperate for some sort of nostalgic consolation – and the shared defeat._

_After long moments, Balthazar sighs. He turns and leaves without another word._

 

 

 

Cas startled awake from the dream at the soft clinking of glass. He tried to orient himself. Right, this was Dean’s couch, that he had offered when they had finished a second and third bottle of wine and the rain never stopped.

Sometime after midnight, Dean had stumbled into his bedroom and reemerged five minutes later with sheets and pillows. He had made up the couch and invited Cas with a wide hand gesture.

“I’d invite you to my bed, but I’m not THAT easy,” Dean had added with a smile. Well, Cas had no doubt about that.

Now Dean muttered, “Sorry, didn’t wanna wake you.” The faucet was opened and closed a moment later.

Cas sat up and yawned. “No, I have to thank you for waking me up. I had an unpleasant dream.”

“Clowns or midgets,” Dean murmured and Cas heard soft sounds that indicated he was coming over to the couch.

Despite himself, Cas smiled. “Neither.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” Cas shrugged. He debated what he wanted to share.

“Have you ever been with someone you thought would complete you, someone you could see yourself get old with, and then one day you look at them and feel utterly alone?”

Dean huffed a laugh, but there wasn’t any kind of amusement in it. “Yeah, I have.”

“How are you supposed to go on from that?”

“By putting one foot in front of the other and hope for the best, I guess.” A warm hand touched Cas’ shoulder for a brief second. “You should try and sleep a bit longer.”

And then he was gone. The next morning Cas couldn’t say if he had dreamed the whole conversation, but he could still feel the imprint of Dean’s hand.

 

*****

 

He had stayed at Harvelle’s for two weeks now and never visited the bar. Come Friday, that was about to change. Dean had told him to come down and have a few beers with his friends.

Cas wanted to get his research organized before he left the Gazette for the weekend. Charlie had unearthed several studies that proved that cancer could be caused by some toxins and chemicals typically used by gold mines. Others linked certain forms of cancer directly to these influences.

They had all read up on typical security measures, laws to protect workers from being exposed to these substances and court rules on reimbursements.

Cas had all the background info he needed to go on and a few important documents Lisa Braeden could give him, but he needed more – proof that Adler was violating laws and willingly hazarded the consequences of their lax safety arrangements.

He sighed. He would go visit Lisa again next week and bring her up to speed. For now, there wasn’t much else left to do.

 

*****

 

Benny Lafitte was a large man with a booming laugh and eyes that spoke of mischief and his love for friendly banter.

Cas never knew how to handle this type of man – whose amiable pats on the back shook your whole body and who seemed to know everything about every sport that included body checks and bleeding noses.

Benny didn’t seem to mind Cas’ awkwardness though – he took him under his wing and treated Cas like he had been part of their little group forever.

They sat in a booth with Dean and Bobby, who had been some kind of surrogate dad for Dean and owned Singer Auto where Dean still worked once in a while. Bobby’s contribution to the conversation was confined to occasional curse words and grunts, but Cas could see that behind that grumpy exterior Bobby cared deeply for Dean.

The topics changed fluently like they did when old friends sat together. Anecdotes where passed around for Cas’ sake, though he was sure they enjoyed telling them just as much as he liked to listen.

He smiled at stories about Benny and Dean building space ships from the junk in Bobby’s scrapyard, about that one gigantic fish they’d caught and that had slipped away before they had found anyone to witness their success.

Somewhere in there Benny joked about Dean’s wasted talents and that he always gave up too soon on his projects. That caught Cas’ attention.

“What projects?” he asked Dean, but Dean just stood and grumbled something about getting new beers under his breath.

“It’s a touchy subject,” Benny whispered loudly enough for Dean to hear.

“If it makes him uncomfortable, please forget I asked.” Cas’ gaze followed Deans broad back until he vanished into the melee around the bar. He looked back to Benny.

“No, no, it’s okay. Dean’s got this aversion to tell anybody anything good about himself, so I’ll do it for him.” He leaned in as if sharing a secret. “Although I guess you already know that he’s not prone to bragging.”

Cas nodded and waited for Benny to dive into his story.

“Dean here tries to make everybody believe he’s a mere mechanic, but the guys’ got a degree in environmental engineering. He got it right after John died, maybe to get back at him, who knows. You know about John?”

Cas looked over to Bobby whose face crunched up in an even deeper smirk than usual.

“Yes,” Cas answered and he refrained from saying more because he didn’t want to talk about such a personal issue without Dean being present.

“Okay,” Benny went on. “So Dean goes to college, gets his degree and comes back with these plans to change the future of the town with a geothermal power station. Takes heat from the earth and produces energy from it?”

“I know what geothermal power is,” Cas said dryly. “What happened?”

“He didn’t get the money to fund the project. No bank would give Dean the start-up capital and the town council voted against it.”

At that Dean slipped into the booth again and handed out the four beers clutched between his hands.

“And that’s all we’re gonna say about the matter tonight,” he added with a scowl.

They all agreed, but Cas saved the information to ask Dean about it when he would get the chance.

 

*****

 

Cas hadn’t had this much to drink in months and he found he enjoyed the company of the men around him.

Bobby excused himself an hour later and his seat was taken by Andrea, Benny’s wife, who was just as energetic and entertaining as her husband.

Cas was aware of Dean’s thigh pressed against his the whole time and the longer the evening went on, the more he caught himself thinking he was being taunted on purpose.

Dean had thrown subtle and not so subtle lines at him for a while now and Cas started to get irritated. Cas hadn’t made any advances and Dean must clearly be used to people looking at him, so Cas saw no reason why Dean should be calling him out like this.

While the others talked local sports, Cas pitied himself. Why did he always fall for the wrong guys? The cheaters, the narcissists with the commitment issues and – his speciality since boarding school – the straight ones.

And still, he couldn’t stop staring. Every single one of Dean’s movements drew Cas’ gaze – Dean drinking, Dean fiddling with his glass, Dean stretching his neck. It was mesmerizing.

When Benny stood to get more drinks, Dean asked quietly so Andrea wouldn’t hear: “Like what you see?” His vowels slurred into each other, barely separated by unrecognizable consonants.

Cas felt a blush creep up his neck that was caused equal parts by embarrassment and anger. The five or six beers and quite a few shots of whiskey he’d had didn’t make things better.

Cas averted his eyes and brought his glass to his lips to gulp down the last third of slightly stale, hand-warm brew. He mumbled something that could have been a confirmation and stared into the now empty vessel as if the bottom of the glass held all the answers.

Or maybe a way out of the weird emotional turmoil he found himself in.

His head whirred like a boiling kettle: bitter loneliness, the warmth of finding friendship in unexpected places, exasperation at his unreliable heart, futile lust – Cas’ fell from one emotion into the next and felt dizzy with it.

And then… and then Dean had the audacity to put his hand on Cas’ thigh.

“Can I speak to you outside for a moment,” Cas managed to get out through gritted teeth.

“Sure thing,” Dean drawled, winking, honest to god _winking_ at Andrea before he followed Cas out.

 

*****

 

“What do you think you are doing?” Cas shoved Dean’s shoulder, maybe harder than necessary, so Dean stumbled towards the wall next to the pub’s backdoor.

“Huh, what are you talkin 'bout?” Dean’s words still slurred, but he seemed to sober up fast.

“The innuendo? The flirting? You should really keep it down if you’re not willing to follow through with that, you know?”

Cas spit out the challenge, stunned himself by the venom in it, but he didn’t take being mocked well, never had. He had unconsciously closed the distance to Dean again and motioned now to step back but Dean grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled Cas forward.

“Follow through, huh?” Dean’s cocky grin made an appearance, but there was bitterness and anger in it too, close to the surface. “You wouldn’t want that.”

They stood close, much closer than was appropriate, much closer than Cas could handle. But he was unable to step back.

His heartbeat picked up with a stumble and he felt the points where Dean’s thumbs met his skin like burn marks.

Cas had no fucking clue what Dean was getting at here. This could be the start of a fist fight; the opening of a tirade about how Cas should stop following Dean’s every move like a lovesick puppy… Dean was pissed, that much was clear, but as to why –

Cas looked down at Dean’s hands, still fisted into the fabric. Instead of letting go, Dean pulled him even closer.

Cas could smell the whiskey on his breath when he whispered, “or would you, Cas?”

Clear thought evaded him – not only had he had quite his share of drinks, too, but being close to Dean fucked up his higher brain capacities on the best of days.

Dean implying that there could be more… Cas’ blood roared in his ears, and the sharp pang of arousal made the muscles in his stomach contract.

He couldn’t recall the conscious decision, but one second he counted the small lines on Dean’s fingers like they held the answers to all the half-finished questions tumbling through his mind – and the next their lips crashed together with enough force to bruise.

Their mouths opened as if to release some of the pressure. Cas took advantage of that instantly and plunged his tongue past Dean’s lips, deep and demanding.

 _This_. This was the moment of truth. Cas had put the cards on the table and waited for Dean to fold…–

Dean moaned low in this throat.

Their lips stilled. For a single second, the floor beneath Cas’ feet shifted before the reality of the situation clicked back into place.

And then Dean kissed him back.

Cas’ hands grabbed Dean’s head on pure instinct and angled it roughly before he licked past Dean’s plush lips again and met his tongue halfway. Dean’s mouth was hot and wet and perfect. Cas growled when Dean opened under him as if he needed to, like he was _starving_ just like Cas.

Cas couldn’t remember when he had last kissed like this, no holds barred, more fighting than seducing. His head swam with the lingering effects of the alcohol and sudden, undeniable want.

Dean’s back met the wall and Cas crowded in, pressed the line of his body against him, nudged his knee between Dean’s. Feeling the swell of Dean’s erection against his hip didn’t exactly come as a surprise but he still gasped at the sensation.

They both started rolling their hips into each other at the same time. The kiss turned into a sloppy thing full of bites and licks, interrupted by ragged breaths.

Dean’s hands trailed down to Cas’ waist and held on tight while he rocked against him.

Cas’ mouth found Dean’s jaw, his neck and sucked a mark into the tender flesh where collarbone met shoulder.

“God, Cas, I …,” Deans rasped, but Cas didn’t want to hear it now, neither _I’ve never done this before_ nor _I don’t think this is a good idea_.

He invaded Dean’s mouth again, still wet and swollen from before, carded his fingers through Dean’s short hair, and pulled, eliciting a helpless whine. Dean’s hips bucked up and Cas thought he would _die_ if he didn’t get them both out of their pants soon.

Next came a gasp and a low “Oh”.

Not Dean’s voice, Cas’ mind supplied helpfully. He let go of Dean’s lips with a smack and leaned his forehead to Dean’s for a few seconds to catch his breath.

Then he turned around, bone-weary all of a sudden, and tried to block Dean’s body as best as he could. Cas hoped whoever interrupted them couldn’t identify Dean clearly in the dim hallway.

Jo stood still with a plate of finger food in her hands, blinking and averting her gaze.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and made to go.

“I would be most grateful if you kept what you saw to yourself, Jo.” Cas tried to sound friendly and sincere, but with his wrecked voice it came out more like a threat.

Jo plastered a smile on her face and turned. “Sure,” she said, and vanished through the door.

Dean wriggled out from behind Cas.

“I should go. Wouldn’t want anyone else to see this, would we?” His whole body language was closed-off and he wouldn’t meet Cas’ eyes. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

And with that he was gone and Cas felt cold and alone in the dark, like he had just lost something he only then realized he needed desperately.

 

 

 


	8. ADLER ENTERPRISES: JOBS ARE SAFE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new chapter. I might be able to post another one this week ... Hope you guys like it!

Cas spent the Saturday hungover and steeped in his own misery. He didn’t bother to put real clothes on – just fell into his couch in sweatpants and the ratty t-shirt Dean had given him. Cas debated never giving it back.

The hours went by with brainless TV shows on Netflix. Cas didn’t really follow the staged drama on his laptop. Instead he cursed himself for falling for Dean, for kissing him, for not having taken him upstairs instantly and a million other possible scenarios. Every single one seemed preferable to what had happened.

Cas had lost what he had started to consider a good friend. Dean had made room in his life for Cas the instant they'd met, he’d helped him get acquainted with the life in Red Lake and never asked for anything in return.

Cas had managed to thank him by putting their friendship at risk, by freaking out and pushing him into the spotlight. A selfish move, fueled by his stupid crush that he would have overcome in a week or maybe two.

And now – now Dean would never talk to him again. Cas had to make sure Jo kept quiet. He would stay in Red Lake until Mildred was back on her feet. Cas would go back to New York to get his contacts on the Adler story. He would publish it and keep his promise. And he would be more careful in the future.

 He fell asleep over this resolution and dreamt of trees and things that hide between them, watching you unseen.

 

*****

 

“So, Charlie tells me you spend a lot of time with Dean lately?”

“Charlie should mind her own business,” Cas answered grumpily.

Mildred sat in a hospital bed that seemed too big for her. Or maybe Cas just didn’t want to admit that she looked smaller somehow. The surgery had gone well; the new hip had been implanted without major problems. Now Mildred’s body had to learn to work with the new material. That meant physical therapy, massages and training.

The facility lay two towns over, close enough to come visit every other day. Cas had told her about work and their progress in the Braeden case. Now the conversation had switched to personal topics and Cas debated what to tell her.

He chewed on his lower lip and thought back to the evening three days ago. If he concentrated, he could still feel the hard lines of Dean’s body against his own, the soft give of his mouth…

“Cas?”

“Uhm, yes, sorry. We have been spending a lot of time together but not anymore.”

Mildred saw through his nonchalant act with ease. He had never been able to keep secrets around her.

“And why is that?”

“We... we… had a moment. Thank god we were interrupted before it got out of hand. And then he went home and we haven’t seen each other since.”

“And why is that?”

“Look, I know you mean well, and I’m sure to an outsider this may seem like the plot of a perfect romance novel – the depressed man from the city finds solace in the arms of a handsome local – I can practically see the cover, believe me. But I’m in no shape to hold Dean’s hand while he comes to terms with his sexuality. I… have my own issues to work through and I would be no help to him.”

Something he said obviously stunned Mildred into silence. He knew he was behaving like an asshole here, but she had to understand that this whole story could only end in misery. He had told himself exactly that for the last days – a mantra that kept him from running over to Dean’s house and pick up right where they stopped.

After a minute or two she heaved a sigh and turned her eyes up to the ceiling as if asking for strength.

“And what makes you think that Dean’s not out already?” she inquired slowly like he was incredibly thick and she couldn’t believe that she had to even ask this.

“I… what?”

“Dean’s bi and the whole town knows. God, do we know. It’s not like you can forget the sight of Dean Winchester and Aaron Bass making out on the dancefloor at the Valentine’s Ball….” She drifted off with a low chuckle. “There’s no handholding needed, believe me. Other than the romantic kind of handholding, of course.”

Cas had always wondered what an epiphany might feel like to religious people. To have your worldview altered without your control and beyond everything you thought you knew. It must feel a little bit like this.

Mildred gave him time to adjust to this important piece of information. He would need a few hours to go over every conversation he ever had with Dean, but right now he had one last question for his aunt.

“I wonder… in this area, when people go fishing, is it customary that they cook the catch and eat it together for dinner?”

“You mean like a barbecue with friends and family?”

“No, ah… No, just two men.”

He could see the amount of willpower that Mildred needed to suppress her laugh. She cocked her head to the side and held his gaze with amusement and something close to pity in her eyes.

“No, Castiel. In this area, that is called a date.”

 

*****

 

When he came over to Lisa’s on Monday he found Dean and Benny already in the living room. Dean stood from the couch and met his eyes with a glare.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Cas had come over to do at least one thing right, to concentrate on his story – he wasn’t prepared for this. For a second, he couldn’t place Dean’s accusation. Tell you what?, he thought. That I can’t stop thinking about the curve of your upper lip when you smile? That I ruined everything by assuming you didn’t really want this?

Cas squinted at Dean who shifted slightly. His challenging stance softened. He clearly thought about the other things that had been left unsaid between them, just like Cas.

Cas had pondered their last encounter for hours. Dean had to think Cas had acted the way he had out of embarrassment to be seen with Dean in an compromising situation. This couldn’t be further away from the truth. But Cas couldn’t think of any way to address it, least of all in front of Dean’s friends.

And why would they have to address it at all? He would be gone soon and he still firmly believed that they both were better off without starting anything, even if his underlying assumptions had been wrong.

This was clean. A clear cut. No harm done. Why bothering to find out who would have wanted what in an imaginary scenario that hadn’t come to pass?

Right now, Dean waited for an answer to another question, but Cas could only stare at him, hands fisted loosely at his sides like a cornered fighter that couldn’t suppress the urge to defend himself, even if he knew the bout was lost.

Lisa spoke up. “I asked him not to. Thank you, Castiel.” The last bit was said pointedly and Lisa tugged on Dean’s sleeve while she said it.

“Yeah, well, but he and I… he could have told me.” The fervor was gone from Dean’s voice and replaced by something that sounded sad and disappointed. Cas didn’t want to look at it too closely.

“I’m sorry, Dean, it wasn’t my place to share.” Cas still stood in the entrance, unsure if he should stay or leave. He should leave.

“Come on in, Cas,” Benny said and indicated a free chair. “It’s good you’re here. We’re talking battle plans.”

Cas tilted his head at that, but Benny didn’t elaborate. So Cas closed the door and sat down. Dean sighed and went to the kitchen to get another beer, which he placed in front of Cas on the table instead of giving it to him directly. _He doesn’t want to touch me_ , Cas thought.

He thanked Dean politely and tried to remember Benny’s words.

“What battle plan?”

Benny, Cas learned, had worked for Adler for over ten years. He had access to a lot of information and could get his hands on even more because he knew people he trusted in the higher ranks. Since these were the last puzzle pieces that Cas had to fill in, he could give Benny a detailed list of things he needed.

Dean stayed quiet most of the time. When Benny finally fell silent, Dean shot a short glance at Cas – so quick Cas would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring again – before he turned to the others.

“And what then?” Dean sat up and put his hands on his knees. “Don’t get me wrong. I think they should be stopped just like you. Nick was one of my best friends and I’ll do my part to help get him some justice. And to fight for your reimbursement.” At that he held Lisa’s gaze.

“But when we bring Adler down, what’s gonna happen then? Will there be a new owner? How can we be sure things will get better? If the mine closes, hundreds will lose their jobs. Have you thought about that?”

Dean shook his head as if to clear it. “Cas will be long gone by then, but we’ll have to live with the consequences,” he told his friends, still not acknowledging that Cas sat right there.

Cas stood. “You’re right. You should discuss this. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

Lisa answered, “We’ll think about it. I’ll call you next week.” She came over and surprised him with a quick hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done so far, Castiel.”

Despite the weight on his heart, Cas smiled at her, before nodding over at Benny and saying his goodbyes without a last look at Dean. This wasn’t the time or place to ponder the fact that they had been in the same room for an hour, acting like strangers, while Benny and Lisa had shared nervous glances more than once.

 

*****

 

Dean came over to the Gazette the next day. He wore the dark leather jacket Cas liked, that brought out the color if his eyes. The jacket could do nothing to put the warm, always slightly amused look back into them that had met Cas’ gaze before.

They had come to an understanding, Dean said, casually as far as Cas could tell. Cas should write his story, but it had to be big, with no chance for Adler to wiggle out of it. And they needed a lawyer who could oversee the whole process.

“You should talk…, “Dean inhaled deeply as if to steel himself, “you should talk to my brother.”

Cas scrutinized Dean’s face, searching for a hint how to take this. He knew their relationship was strained at best. He debated saying more, but in the end opted for “Why?”

“Well, first, he’s specialized in environmental law. And if the way he did in school is any indication, he’s damn good at it. Second, he knows the people here. Even if he doesn’t want to live here anymore. He gets how Red Lake works and he knows a lot about the mine. So… yeah, you should talk to him. And it’s convenient, too, because last I checked he lived in New York.”

“You checked?”

“Hey, even if he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, he’s still the only family I got. He’s my little brother and nothing he does will change that.” Dean’s gaze dropped. Cas knew he didn’t want him to see the anguish in his eyes.

“I’ll look him up and set up a meeting,” Cas said and fought down the urge to comfort Dean. That wasn’t his place anymore, if it had ever been. They had only known each other a few weeks, Cas realized with a start. The ache in his chest told him differently.

“His name is Sam. Sam Winchester,” Dean murmured.

“Dean…,” Cas started, but he still didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry I have to leave. I’m sorry you think I was ashamed to be seen with you. You deserve better than this. All of this was true, but the sentences sounded so very wrong in his mind. Shame and regret tightened his throat and he just couldn’t get the words past them.

Dean watched him closely.

“Go back to New York, Cas, and make sure you keep your promise to take Adler down. That’s really all I care about.”

The door to the office fell shut and the clock on the wall clicked through the seconds. Cas blinked slowly and looked down at his hands, opening and closing around nothing.

 


	9. [TBD]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the rating changed. The reason for that is this chapter. And another warning: this got way angstier than I planned. 
> 
> Happy holidays y'all.

 

The next week went by in a daze. Between the usual work at the Gazette, Cas put together every piece of info they had and began weaving it into a story that would make the headlines. When all was said and done, he set up a meeting with Charlie, Lisa, Benny and Dean, who had invited them over to his house.

They talked for hours, checked the details and made last minute changes on the story. Mildred had come home the day before and said she would be able to get back to work. Cas had already packed and would leave in the morning. 

Lisa and Benny left around midnight. Cas and Dean still sat on the couch. Close, because neither of them had bothered to use the space Lisa’s absence gave them. Cas knew he should leave, too, but he couldn’t make himself stand up.

The silence filled with tension. All the easy camaraderie of their time together before last Friday was gone. Cas mourned the loss – he had never been one of those people that fell into step with others easily, he had always been the odd one out – between his brothers and sister when he was a child and later, too. The introverted journalist, the New Yorker who preferred reading books over Vernissages and charity events.

He had fallen into step with Dean, though. And he owed him an apology.   

“Before you go… about that night…,”Dean started.

Cas turned to him and nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry I ambushed you like that,” Dean said.

Cas had his explanation for misreading the situation already on his tongue and nearly choked on it now. “You… ambushed me? 

“Well, yes. I know you’re still working through your break-up and it wasn’t fair to put you in this position. I’m sorry.”

“Dean… you didn’t start anything. I kissed you first.”

“No way.”

They stared at each other for long moments, until Dean broke into a tentative smile, so slow and careful one might miss it after a blink.

“So you don’t regret it?”

“No,” Cas practically shouted, appalled. Then, despite everything, fearing the answer, “do you?”

“No,” Dean murmured. He stood and rolled his shoulders. “Great we cleared that up. I’ll grab us another beer.”

Cas caught Dean’s wrist when he moved to go to the kitchen, just a light touch, but Dean stopped as if he had been glued to the spot. He looked down and their eyes met. 

“I don’t want another beer,” Cas rasped. When he had opened his mouth, he hadn’t meant it as a come on but it sounded lewd even to his own ears.

His heart pounded a mile a minute. Suddenly, the air between them felt thick with possibilities. Cas would be gone tomorrow, but that was a sound reason to stand up and go right now just as it was a reason to give in, wasn’t it? Cas didn’t trust his feelings in this anymore – his wrong assumptions and his libido had led into this mess. The final decision had to be Dean’s.

Cas didn’t know how long they stayed like this, on the edge, drowning in the blatant want they found in each other’s eyes. Dean turned and reached out to touch Cas’ head in an almost reverent gesture before he leaned down and caught his lips with his own. 

Cas sighed against the softness and let himself be pushed against the worn cushions of the couch. Dean’s lips never left his when he sat down on Cas’ lap and leaned in to deepen the kiss.

The way they met was both unhurried and desperate, content for the moment with the sinful tangle of their tongues, the tasting and the exploring. The angle gave Dean control of the kiss and Cas let him set the pace willingly.

Dean kissed like his life depended on it, like he could do this all day and never tire. A lot of men Cas had been with saw this only as a step you have to get through to the sex, but Dean made it an art form. He moved slow and sensual against Cas’ body, heightening every sense without distracting him from the wicked things Dean did to his mouth.

Cas didn’t have to imagine what those lips and that tongue could do elsewhere to grow hard in no time. He held Dan’s hips steady to buck up against him and get some friction. They both moaned.

After a long while Dean seemed to have enough of taking it slow. He grabbed Cas’ shirt to shove it over his shoulders and go for the t-shirt beneath next. He hooked his thumbs in his own shirt and then… then they met skin on skin. Cas leaned up to taste the freckles on Dean’s shoulders and his throat.

Dean bent back at that, an invitation for Cas to learn the shape of his body. Cas trailed his mouth over Dean’s heart to feel it thrumming against his lips before he closed his lips around a nipple and sucked hard. Dean arched under him, gasping and grabbing Cas’ head with his right hand – to keep himself steady or keep Cas right there or maybe both. Cas added a hint of teeth and was instantly rewarded with a sinful moan that stoked the heat in Cas’ gut.

Dean was sensitive and vocal about his desire in a way that felt new for Cas. He briefly thought he could come just from this – the filthy sounds and the smell of Dean’s skin and the way he rolled his hips against Cas, clearly lost in the building heat between them.

The constant chant of _moremoremore_ boiled in his veins, and Cas’ hands tugged on the buttons of Dean’s jeans – a question more than a serious attempt to open them. Dean didn’t let him wait. He stood, taking Cas’ hand with him and pushing his pelvis into his palm.

“Yeah,” he breathed and Cas reached forward with his other hand to open the button and find the zipper.

Dean’s cock strained against the dark fabric of his boxer briefs that already showed an even darker spot. Cas leaned in while he pushed Dean’s pants down, and found the outline of Dean’s erection with his lips. Dean groaned and rocked against Cas’ face, and somehow this wanton motion let the last doubts about this vanish from his mind.

Dean pulled back and sank down to help Cas out of his clothes. And then he was back in Cas’ lap, close, and finally, finally some friction. They kissed again, wet and sloppy while Dean wrapped his hand around them and spread spit and precome over heated skin to ease the motion.

Cas reveled at the contrast of the soft skin of Dean’s cock against his and the rougher palm that slid over them in a maddening pace. He couldn’t help but move into it. Sharing pleasure this way - immediate, rough, face to face - freed some forgotten part of Cas. He craved and wanted, he needed ... 

Dean murmured, “I want you to fuck me,” and Cas groaned.

Dean let go of their cocks and sat back a little, eyes glazed and unfocused. He grabbed Cas’ hand and brought it to his mouth, taking his index and middle finger between his lips. Dean licked the sensitive flesh on the sides and bit gently into the pads before he let them go, wet and glistening.

Cas stared at Dean’s lips and leaned up to lick the saliva from them, while he fit his hand between their legs and found Dean’s entrance. Dean’s hands on Cas’ chest stilled, his lips rested on Cas’, and they breathed the same air – and it rushed through their lungs, when Cas’s index finger slid inside Dean’s heat and they both gasped at the sensation.

Cas went slow, learning Dean’s body inside and out, kissed him deep and let his hand fall to Dean’s cock to stroke softly. Dean writhed in his lap, rolling his hips between Cas’ hands, sinking down onto his fingers and pushing up into his palm.

Dean looked gorgeous; sweat shone on his skin and made it glow in the soft light. The scent of his desire permeated the air – it smelled like earth and the forest and so very human. Cas got lost in the immediacy of it all, overwhelmed by how real the body in his hands felt, how alive.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean urged, rocking back harder.        

Cas murmured “we should…” but Dean was already leaning to the side, digging into the cushions and emerging with a bottle of lube. Instead of giving it to Cas he opened it and let the liquid coat his own fingers before he reached back and met Cas’ hand.

The feeling of Dean’s own finger circling his rim to spread the lube and ease the way for Cas made Cas’ head spin. Dean’s face was flushed and he bit deep into his bottom lip when he pushed his own finger inside himself alongside Cas’. 

“You … god, Dean,” Cas let out a throaty laugh, and closed his eyes, because the added visual of Dean completely debauched before him was just too much. Dean fucked himself back onto their combined fingers, mewling softly, while Cas’ hand had nearly stilled on Dean’s cock. 

Cas was so hard it almost hurt, and he contemplated moving his hand to his own erection or asking Dean for some assistance, anything to ease the building need, when Dean murmured, “Come on, Cas,” again, and Cas was sure he would never not follow that instruction.

Cas let go of Dean’s dick and slipped his fingers out of Dean’s body, which earned him a low complaint, before he patted around for his jacket. When he had put a condom in one of the pockets a few days ago, it had felt pathetic and silly. Now he congratulated his former self for the foresight.

Dean snatched the condom from his hands as soon as Cas leaned back up. Cas' gaze droppped to Dean’s cock, full and red and leaking, and he mourned the fact that he wouldn’t get the chance to taste it. Dean opened the package and rolled the rubber down Cas’ length before adding a generous amount of lube, and fuck, that contact alone made Cas’ body tense.

“Easy there,” Dean smiled, and sat up a bit. Cas scooted lower on the couch to give Dean room. He'd heard of drugs that made you a livelong addict with a single shot and hadn't been able to imagine how that would feel. Cas understood now. He had never before been so helpless, never caught himself thinking _anything, I would give anything just for this_. 

Dean reached behind himself and guided Cas into him. Coherent thought left with the first breach, the agonizing, slow union of their bodies.

Dean sank down inch by inch. His body welcomed Cas, hot and tight. Cas choked around a broken moan while he tried to focus on Dean’s eyes, all white and green and black. Seconds, hours later, he bottomed out and Dean released a soft sigh that felt somehow more profound than every single sound before.

Cas had been wrong; it had been a mistake to give in. How was he supposed to forget this? How could he not remember exactly the way Dean’s hands fit on his shoulders while he began to move slowly in his lap? How would he ever forget the way his heart ached at the sight of Dean, all his masks undone, Dean, so raw and ethereally beautiful…

Dean stilled and shook his head, silently admonishing him. _Don’t think about it now_ , his eyes said, _let me – let us have this_  

Cas took a deep breath around the lump in his throat and nodded.

Dean began to move again, arching his back to find the spot that made him cry out with every thrust of Cas’ hips. And Cas stopped thinking. He held Dean’s hips and fucked up into his body steady and deep, meeting Dean’s movements one by one.

The sound of wet skin on skin and their throaty groans filled his ears, music for their dance. The room around him fell away and tomorrow became a distant concept while Cas’ pleasure built like a tidal wave.

He was close, so close already, when Dean’s motions started to get erratic.

 “Dean,” Cas gasped – a warning, a plea, a prayer.

Dean answered. His face went lax, too stunned to make a sound, eyes wide open and piercing, never leaving Cas’ while his come painted Cas’ chest and stomach. 

The waves of Dean’s orgasm sent Cas over the edge, too. He bucked up once, twice, before he felt the coil in his spine snap. Still trembling with the intensity of his release he found Dean’s mouth again. The kiss started hungry and turned slow and sweet as the tension left their bodies. Dean’s warm, pliant lips moved against his with the same sensuality that had stolen Cas’ breath earlier, but now it felt like a valediction.

They held each other for long moments until their breath evened out. Dean untangled himself first. He went to the bathroom without a word. 

A minute later, Cas could hear the shower running. With burning eyes, he tied off the condom and put it in the trash, before he slipped into his clothes and left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	10. CITY COUNCIL CONSIDERS PLANS FOR GEOTHERMAL POWER STATION

Cas didn’t think about Dean when he packed his things and put them in the trunk of his rental.

He didn’t think about him when he said goodbye to Ellen and Jo, Mildred, Garth and Charlie.

He didn’t think about him on his way to the airport, on the plane and when he set foot on the wet, glittering tarmac on JKF the next morning.

 

*****

 

The city invaded his senses with sounds and harsh light and the cacophony of smells that needed getting used to for days. Cas stood on the pavement in front of his old apartment building for minutes, overwhelmed and disoriented. He blinked against the dull sunlight that filtered through muddy grey clouds. A honking car yanked him out of his hazy thoughts. He turned and took the three steps up to the lobby.

Cas walked through the empty flat, wondering how he could ever think that this was a home. It had been a place to stay between here and there, something as unreal as a hotel room. Balthazar had sold their things and sent the check to Cas. The flat would be rented by another busy New York couple in no time. Cas hoped they would find happiness.

He closed the door behind him.

 

*****

 

Cas brought his remaining personal belongings to one of the smaller apartments his family owned and that waited for the various siblings and cousins who came to New York once in a while. The city stayed distant, and his mind refused to comprehend his return. Cas didn’t want to think about it. He had a job to do and there would be time after that to take stock of his fuck-ups.

The next days were full of meetings he would have liked to ditch. When he entered his mother's office, the urge to turn around and leave felt so familiar that it almost had a nostalgic tint.

He grimaced, not quite a smile. The same expression was mirrored on Naomi Novak’s face. She looked impeccable as always – grey pantsuit, high heels, a few pieces of jewelry that looked understated to anyone who didn’t know their price.

“Castiel.”

After all these years he still marveled at her ability to turn a greeting into an accusation.

“Mother. I hope you’re well?”

“Yes. What can I do for you?” She glanced at the open calendar on her desk, a subtle hint that he should make this quick.

“I have come across a business opportunity and want to invest a part of my shares.” She looked up at that. If there was one thing in the world sure to get her attention, it was money and the chance to increase it.

“Go on.”

“I spent the last weeks in Canada – Mildred asks me to pass on her best wishes – and learned that the country has great potential for geothermal energy. It could prove a solution to waning gas and oil resources. Legislation is in favor of its development, but few companies have shown interest until now.”

Her face scrunched into a squint. “Why not?”

“Oil sands still provide faster and higher profits. But that will end someday. I think it’s wise to be prepared when that happens.” His hands felt clammy and he tried to wipe them without drawing attention to the gesture. He hadn’t been nervous in his mother's presence since the day he had come out to her. That had been the last time he had called her “mom”.

Now she smiled, like he had made her proud for the first time in years. The smile and everything it stood for sent a chill down Cas’ spine. He wondered – not for the first time – how Mildred and Naomi could share one half of their genes. Had there ever been a time when Naomi had been hopeful and full of warm humor just like her half-sister? Had something destroyed that part of her?

It had taken him years to see that she probably didn’t treat him this way out of spite or because she was as heartless as she seemed. Somewhere in all that cold exterior, she cared for him. That didn’t make forgiving her any easier but still, he tried, if only for his own sake. Unbidden memories of Dean, talking slow and quiet about his dad, crowded his mind. He wished he could have done anything to ease his pain then.

“That sounds like a good business opportunity. I would advise to let our financial council check the numbers, but in the end you’re free to use the money as you please.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you join us for Christmas dinner this year?”

“Yes.”

And with that their meeting was concluded. Cas closed the thick oakwood door on his way out and wondered if his mother had ever been happy.

 

*****

 

Sam Winchester stood over a head taller than Cas and should have been intimidating, were it not for his warm brown eyes and the firm handshake that made Cas feel welcome instantly.

He had no reason to be overly friendly – Cas had told him just a few tidbits over the phone. Nevertheless, the young lawyer had made time in his calendar, and even though papers stacked high on his desk, he gave Cas his full focus and waited patiently for him to state his case.

“I’m coming to you with a rather complicated request and I’m afraid that there’s a personal component to it I should make you aware of before we get to the details.”

Sam leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “Personal for you, Mr. Novak?”

Cas could feel the corners of his mouth rise but he doubted it looked like a genuine smile.

“For us both, to be quite honest.” Cas took a deep breath. “Your brother recommended you.”

That made Sam sit back and his eyes widened. A crease appeared between his brows. He was on his guard. Cas hadn’t expected anything else.

“And how do you know my brother?”

“I met him in Red Lake. My aunt lives there, she runs the local newspaper. We became… we became friends and worked together on a story I plan to publish in the coming weeks. There might be a rather substantial backlash after this publication, for which we will need legal assistance. Your brother indicated that you may be suited for this.”

Cas gave Sam a few moments to digest the news. He looked young and unsure when he worried his bottom lip. The action reminded Cas so much of Dean that he had to avert his eyes.

“And I assume you can’t tell me anything about the how’s and why’s of this story of yours until I sign up as your legal counsel?” Sam might have been caught unaware by Cas’ visit, but he recovered quickly.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t want to take up more of your time than I already have,” Cas told him.

“How’s Dean?” Sam’s voice was low and his gaze dropped to the table, again such a familiar gesture that Cas’ heart hurt to see it.

“He… he’s well, I think. He… I don’t know what to tell you, because I don’t know what you know and I… only met him a few weeks ago.” Cas hated how he stumbled over the words, how obviously this topic made him loose his footing in the conversation. Sam didn’t seem to mind.

“Is he happy, do you think?”

Cas took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The images of Dean came instantly – Dean smiling at one of Benny’s crude jokes at the bar; Dean concentrating on reeling a fish in; Dean explaining the pros and cons of softwood over hardwood like it was the most important thing in the world… A soft sigh escaped him. When he opened his eyes, Sam squinted at him inquisitively.

“I think so.” Cas willed away the memories and concentrated on the man in front of him. “He misses you, if you don’t mind me saying that.”

For a second, Sam’s face fell and Cas could see the vulnerable boy behind his professional façade. It was over in a blink. Sam seemed to have come to a resolution.

“I don’t mind. And if I can help in any way, count me in. So what is this story about?”

 

*****

 

Cas met with a Times editor he knew from various projects. The paper showed interest, but there were still a few details to add. One of their own journalists interviewed Zachariah Miller, the CEO of Adler Enterprises, and sprinkled in questions about security measures without raising suspicion. They could use the answers for their own story and prove that the company lied about the dangers and their steps to protected the workers.

Long busy days were followed by nights in which Cas found only a few hours of sleep. He lay in his brand new bed with crisp white linen and missed the distinctive give of his mattress at the Roadhouse, the checkered green sheets, soft from being washed hundreds of times. He missed the fireplace and the smell of burning wood and the way there were different temperatures all over the room.

The world around the flat was loud and evermoving, and he was sure sleep would come easier to him if he had been able to hear the wind over the sounds of traffic. He missed the feeling that he would get up in the morning and go to work with friends and do something he believed in.  

And only in the small hours, when even New York fell a bit more quiet and the lack of sleep ate away at his resolve to not think about it – don’t think about it, don’t…

He missed Dean.

When that happened, the gates opened and the questions flooded in. Cas had worked through all the hours they had spent together, trying to see a pattern, trying to understand. He made himself take a step back from the story and see it through the eyes of a bystander. The journalist in him remembered minute details – body language, a peculiarly phrased comment, strings of actions that led to valid conclusions about goals and intentions.

Dean had invited him to spend time together on their first meeting. Alone. There had been long lingering looks and awkward moments and conversations you just don’t have with anyone.

“I’m not that easy,” Dean had laughed. And Cas had been sure that had meant _never_. And when they’d given in, he had been sure it had meant _just this once_.

Cas’ skin felt too tight and his blood pounded behind his eyes. God, he had been so blind. He had gotten it all wrong and stomped all over the one good thing that had happened to him in a long time.

He pressed the backs of his hands against his eyes to ease the pressure, but the single, simple truth still flashed in tall neon letters: _I’m an idiot_.

 

 


	11. SCANDAL THREATENS CANDADIAN MINING INDUSTRY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly done ... I hope you like it!

Christmas drew nearer and Cas made time in his schedule to buy some meaningless gifts for his family. He passed an outdoor store, a small shop for kitchen utensils and a wine store without going in.

He met with Sam every other day to make plans and trade information. Sam dug deep into the case law and found a dozen incidents all over the world that strengthened their approach.

“My mom was an environmental activist,” he told Cas one afternoon when they sat together at the small table in Sam’s office and browsed through court files. “She settled down in Red Lake after finishing university to be closer to nature. Always had a battle to fight – with the local hunters or the government or the oil companies.”

Cas hummed to indicate his sympathy and tried to hide how much he wanted to hear more about the Winchester family.

“She… she died when I was a few months old, so I never got to know her. But when I had to choose a field to specialize in, I didn’t even have to think about it.”

“Dean has a degree in environmental engineering.”

“I know.” Sam laughed a little. “I’ve been keeping tabs on him. I knew he would make it. He’s way smarter than most people think. Smarter than he himself thinks. My dad… he had a way to convince him he was worthless. It made me sick.”

Sam wouldn’t meet his eyes and Cas understood that this conversation made him uncomfortable. He felt honored that Sam shared this with him, even though he didn’t know why.

“So you left.” Cas made it a statement and tried not to judge Sam for leaving his brother behind.

Sam looked up. “So I left.” He took a deep breath. “It was a decision I had to make to get my own life under control. It was never meant to hurt Dean – that was collateral damage I had to live with. And I wish I had found a way to make it less hurtful for him, but at the time I didn’t see it.”

Cas started to say something, but Sam held up a hand to indicate he wasn’t finished.

“The reason I’m telling you this is – and you don’t have to tell me anything about it if you don’t want to – my brother hasn’t got the highest opinion of himself. He always, always cares more than he lets on and he has good reasons to not react well when he’s left behind. So whatever went down between him and you, I’d ask you to consider that before making any final decisions.”

Sam’s eyes were on Cas with laser focus. He was dead serious and Cas began to squirm under the scrutiny.

“Thank you for your insight. It’s too late now anyway.”

“It’s never too late. I have to believe that – otherwise this whole ordeal is useless.” Sam concentrated on the papers in front of him again. Dust motes danced around his head in the late afternoon light and his large hands moved with precision through the files that could decide the lives of hundreds of people.

They both cared most about only one.

 

*****

 

Sam flew to Red Lake on Christmas morning. Cas had secured him a place on the crowded plane, thinking of it as a present for Dean. He would be able to spend the holidays with his brother for the first time in nearly a decade.

Cas hadn’t a single doubt that they would bury their differences. They both had too big a heart and cared too much about the other to hold a grudge longer than necessary. He smiled when he thought about how the holidays would look like in Red Lake – freshly cut trees in every living room, blazing white snow and sharing presents and stories in front of cozy fires.

What awaited him was the opposite of coziness and warmth. The long dining table in the Novak residence seated up to twenty people. Silver cutlery, crystal glasses and starched linen made Cas stomach churn with unpleasant childhood memories. He wore his tux. The collar chafed on his throat and the fabric stank from dry cleaning and being stashed in the plastic wrapping for years. The only silver lining was the fact that he sat next to his sister Anna. The second his mother and his father had finished their impersonal speeches, she turned to him and touched his cheek.

“Are you sick?”

Cas shook his head, loathing to lose the soothing touch.

“No, why?”

“You look weary. I would have thought you would get over Balthazar sooner.”

“I…” Cas hesitated. “Me too.”

He pretended to focus on his food to stop his sister from asking any more questions. He hadn’t thought about Balthazar in days, but he was wise enough not to mention that to Anna.

 

*****

 

Anna talked him into attending one of the private New Years’ Eve parties only a chosen few even knew about. He didn’t care much for the expensive food or the location or the bar or the people. But it beat sitting alone in the small apartment and regretting his life choices. In exchange he was willing to mingle just enough to not seem antisocial.

Cas knew the names of almost every guest. He had been to the same schools, visited the same events for years. He should have felt at ease here between what many would call “his people”, but the affected laughter that echoed through the room made his skin crawl. He looked around for someone, something to occupy his mind.

A gangly kid, mid-twenties maybe, with big eyes and a pale complexion, caught his attention. Cas was just about to go over and ask if he was okay, when a tanned arm curled over the guest’s shoulders. This one Cas knew.

Balthazar looked well-rested. He whispered something in his date’s ear and smiled at him with genuine warmth. Cas waited for the bout of jealousy that the image had to conjure. His gut churned and he seemed unable to look away. But his first thought wasn’t _I want Balthazar to smile at me like that_ , like he had anticipated. He realized, with absolute clarity, that he only needed one person to smile at him like that. Cas huffed. His trip to Canada had been a success after all. The scars of his break-up with Balthazar had all healed up. Cas even caught himself feeling glad for him. He seemed content.

Balthazar looked over and their eyes met briefly. Cas smiled and waved, before he went to find something to drink.

 

*****

 

Sam’s words stayed vibrant on the back of his mind all through the madness of the next months. The article got published on January 10th and the media went down on the mining business like vultures. What started in Canada spread fast around the world – workers came forward, unions scheduled protests and experts confirmed that yes, the dangers were to be taken seriously. They had advised to do that for years, but now the public had taken an interest.

Politicians picked up the issue to get elected and the concerned companies were willing to pay nearly any price to make the problem go away. Adler Enterprises was only the first company to be caught in the storm. They offered generous reimbursements to avoid going to court and paid those who agreed quickly. Sam counseled the families and negotiated the terms for most of them. Those who didn’t settle were few – Lisa Braeden among them. The process would take months, maybe years, and it would probably destroy Adler Enterprises. Cas had no pity left for them.

While his name was left out of most of the media coverage, it was obviously brought up in the higher ranks of several newspapers. He hadn’t opened any of the mails containing job offers that had come in over the last weeks. Instead of being euphoric to see all the doors for his career wide open, his gut told him to ignore the opportunities until people forgot about him again.

By the middle of February, when the heart of the storm had passed, he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer and needed to at least have a look. He could sit around feeling like a failure and hoping for a cosmic sign forever – or he could take control of his future and make the most of it. Maybe some of the offers still applied. With a sigh, he opened the first message.

When he had scrolled halfway through the first mail – _Dear Mr. Novak, we’re delighted to offer you the position_ … – a soft ping indicated an incoming mail. Probably junk, he thought, but opened his inbox anyway.

Speaking of cosmic signs. It wasn’t junk. Heart pounding, Cas stared at the name under _sent by_ for full three minutes.

Dean Winchester.

impala67@googlemail.com.

No subject.

 

The possibility that he could just delete it and never think of him again flashed through Cas’ mind and left a searing path of longing and regret. _It’s never too late,_ Sam’s voice argued.

Sam won.

 

 

_Hey Cas,_

_Just wanted to give you an update on things here in Red Lake. We found the perfect spot for our plant and will start with the probing soon. We built a cooperative that’s owned by the whole town. A few people invested the compensation from Adler and then there’s an anonymous investor that added the remaining funds. I guess I’ll have to thank you for that, too._

_Sam is here a lot to oversee all the details of the contract. We talked. Seems like I wasn’t the only one too chicken shit to reach out and clear things up._

_I’m supposed to say hi from about a hundred people, but I’ll just mention Mildred, Ellen and Lisa, because I’m sure they’d have my ass if they found out I didn’t do as I was told._

_Thanks for everything, Cas, and if you’re ever in the area, make sure to stop by._

_Dean_


	12. RED LAKE. POPULATION: 1001

_Sleeplessly embracing_  
_Butterflies and needles_  
_Line my seamed-up join_  
_Encased in case I need it_  
_In my stomach, for my heart_  
_Chain mail_

_Hunger of the pine_

_Sl_ _eeplessly embracing_  
_Yawn yearns into me_  
_Plenty more tears in the sea_  
_And so you finally use it_  
_Bedding with me you see at night_  
_Your heart wears knight armour_

 _Realization grew on me_  
_As quickly as it takes your hand_  
_To warm the cool side of the pillow_  
_I’m there for you, be there for me_  
_I’ll hum the song the soldiers sing_  
_As they march outside our window_

_Hunger of the pine_

_(alt-J)_

 

 

_Two weeks later_

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas stood on Dean’s porch, his left hand still high in the air from knocking on Dean’s door. Bob ran circles around his legs, but Cas didn’t mind him. Dean blinked slowly like he had seen a ghost.

Cas tipped his head in the direction of his right hand by way of explanation. “I thought I could borrow some tools from you. There’s still something I need to learn.”

“Planting a tree,” Dean whispered, like he wasn’t sure his voice would hold. He cleared his throat and cocked his head, then found back to his trademark drawl quickly: “Wanna put down some roots, huh?”

Cas’ stomach sank with dread that this was the dumbest idea he ever had, and he plastered a smile on his face that spoke of a confidence he didn’t feel. _Fake it until you make it_. “I’d like to grow my own fire wood. How long do you think until I can cut it down?”

Dean eyed the pine seedling in Cas’ hand. His thoughtful squint made the lines around his eyes deepen. Cas yearned to reach out and touch them.

“Fifteen, twenty years, I guess,” Dean mused after a while and looked back up.

“I’ll wait.” Their eyes met and Cas hoped with all his heart that he didn’t imagine the pure joy he saw in Dean’s.

 

*****

 

They planted the tree together. The earth was cold and muddy, and they were both covered in grime by the time the hole was big enough for the small tree. Cas glanced over at Dean every few seconds, admiring the way his body moved under his clothes, more guessing than really seeing because Dean wore his usual layers of flannel to keep warm. Once in a while, their eyes met and Cas didn’t look away. Dean didn’t either. The work took longer this way, but Cas didn’t care.

Finally done, Dean leaned onto the old shovel, gripping the worn shaft. He had a smudge of mud on his cheek and his boots were caked with soil. The waning sunlight fell onto his tousled hair, coaxing hints of auburn from the strands. To Cas, he had never looked more beautiful.

Cas moved slowly, still not sure where they stood. Only one way to find out. He leaned his shovel against a nearby tree and closed the distance to Dean with a few steps. Dean’s shovel fell to the ground when Cas reached him. This close, Cas could see the freckles that had lost their deep color over the winter and paled just like the rest of his skin.

Cas’ gaze dropped to Dean’s mouth: lush pink lips opened under his scrutiny, oh so inviting. Heat bloomed in Cas’ center when Dean’s tongue darted out and left a wet trail on his bottom lip. Cas felt his own tongue mirror the motion. He leaned in some more and closed his eyes and hoped against all odds that this was still something they could have.

The first touch of Dean’s lips on his own was tentative, as if he asked for permission, as if he wasn’t sure either. Cas kissed back slow with his mouth closed, just a tender press of lips. His hand came up to Dean’s shoulders and he felt the tension leave their bodies when Dean’s arms circled his lower back.

The kiss deepened gradually, a careful exploration that gave them room to reacquaint and reassure. _Yes, I still want you_ , Dean said with the way he welcomed Cas’ tongue. _I’m here_ , Cas’ hands told Dean while he buried them in the soft hair at his nape. _It feels so good to have you back_ , they agreed, with soft sounds, wordless encouragements.

Their hands wandered over each other’s body, found the curves of shoulder blades and hip bones. Cas moaned, deep and low, when Dean palmed his ass and pulled him closer. Heat rose in his spine and Cas took a few steps, taking Dean with him, until they reached the tall fir.

Dean fell back against the tree and opened his legs wide enough to accommodate Cas. Stepping between them, Cas dove for his mouth again and swallowed Dean’s grunt when he pushed his hips forward. He could feel Dean already hard against his thigh. Impatient, he snuck a hand between them to follow the outline of Dean’s erection through the denim. Cas tried to think of an elegant way to convey what he wanted next, what he had fantasized about since that first night, or since Dean first appeared in the door frame of his room at the Roadhouse, but he was too far gone for subtleties.

Cas sank to his knees and – taking Dean’s broken “wha- oh fuck” as confirmation – opened the buttons of Dean’s faded jeans. He grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs, pushed it down to bare Dean’s dick and closed his lips around the head. The bitter tang of Dean’s arousal exploded on his tongue. Cas moaned around it. He licked along the swollen vein on the underside and dipped his tongue into the slit before he took him deep, reveling in Dean’s helpless gasps and whines and the tremor in his hands when they flew to the back of Cas’ head.

Dean’s cock filled out even more, hardened, a heavy weight on his tongue, and Cas had to let his jaw go slack to accommodate it. Dean’s thumb stroked his cheek, like he wanted to feel himself moving inside Cas’ mouth, and Cas looked up and nodded to indicate that yes, okay.

Dean held his gaze when he rolled his hips slowly, pulling out almost completely and sliding the head over Cas’ lips. He pushed back in, slow, mesmerized, gasping when Cas hollowed his cheeks and sucked.

Cas had dreamed about this. He had imagined Dean’s panting, uneven breaths, and the soft skin of his thighs under Cas’ hands. The heady salty taste. Dean’s eyes, those beautiful eyes, blown dark with desire had haunted him when he lay awake in New York.

Cas’ right hand fell down to his jeans. He pressed his palm against his straining cock in order to get some relief.

Not enough.

Dean grinned down at him when Cas made an impatient sound in the back of his throat while he fumbled with his zipper and shoved his hand into his underwear. Cas circled his fingers around his cock and groaned when he pushed up into the tightness.

“Yeah, Cas, like that.” Dean’s head fell back onto the bark and he found a rhythm to rock into Cas’ mouth. Cas’ jaw began to ache but he didn’t care. He let go of Dean’s hip and let his free hand wander between Dean’s legs to tease his balls and his perineum. The breathless sigh that followed stoked the fire in his gut.

Cas fucked up into his own fist, slickened with sweat and precome, while he fought to relax his throat. Dean’s cock pushed deeper with each thrust and Cas made himself breathe slowly through his nose. The hand at the back of his head tightened and Dean stared down at him with an expression somewhere between awe and pain. Gazes locked, Dean’s cock buried deep, time stood still for an endless moment,

“Oh fuck, Cas, you …” Dean tensed before his whole body shuddered and curled forward while he came down Cas’ throat. Cas held on through the pulses of Dean's orgasm, high on the sounds of his undoing.

Finally, Dean’s legs buckled under him as if his strings had been cut. He landed in a heap in front of Cas, breathing hard, fucked out and absolutely gorgeous. Cas grabbed his face and kissed him with more hunger than finesse. Despite his post orgasmic haze Dean kissed back with equal force and shoved against Cas’ chest so he fell backwards into the mud. Cas’ drew a breath to protest only to have it pushed from his lungs when Dean’s hand wrapped around his dick and started jerking him, fast, tight, perfect.

Dean’s mouth was on him a second later, chasing his own taste with a sound that came close to a growl. Cas bucked up and held on to Dean’s jacket with scrambling fingers, too far gone to care about the dirt in his hair or the moist earth that soaked his clothes in seconds.

Dean scraped his teeth along his jaw while his palm twisted on the upstroke and Cas was about to lose his mind. His every sense filled with _Dean_ , drowning his perception with scent and taste and sound. His body convulsed, blood roared in his ears and still, still he needed to hear it.

“Come on, Cas.”

A cry wrenched itself free from somewhere deep in his lungs. Dean kept up the pace – relentlessly – while Cas’ came in long spurts over his hand. When the touch became too much, Cas batted Dean’s arm weakly. Dean chuckled and wiped his hand on Cas’ jeans before he pulled them up to somewhat cover Cas’ crotch.

Lying in the wet dirt, come and mud all over his clothes, half covered by an equally debauched six foot guy, Cas grinned like an idiot. He smiled like he hadn’t smiled in years or maybe ever. His low self-conscious snort made Dean lean back to look at him. Mild amusement shone in Dean’s eyes and a lazy kind of contentment that warmed Cas to the marrow of his bones despite the cold.

He framed Dean’s face with his hands. “I’m happy. I’m really happy I came back.”

Dean turned to lay a gentle kiss on the inside of his palm, eyes closed. “Me too.”

 

*****

 

Cas moved in the same day.

 

*****

 

 

In April, Dean built a sunroom where Cas could put the ancient desk they found in Mildred’s attic and write his book about their fight against the mine and for the future of Red Lake.

From time to time, Cas doubted that Dean meant it when he said he needed him, and from time to time Dean was sure that Cas would leave him again. Then they would reassure each other with words and with the touch of hands and lips. They would make love – gently – in front of the fire, or Dean would fuck Cas standing up against the shed in the yard while the setting sun made the air glow all around them.

The pine grew and when the 20 years were over, neither of them had the heart to cut it down.

“Let’s give it another decade,” Cas said. Dean nodded and slung his arm around Cas’ shoulders to lead him back inside. Dinner was almost ready.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!! I even made it past the magical 20k line. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. It would mean the world to me if you left a comment to tell me how you liked it. 
> 
> All my thanks to Marie for being such a fantastic beta. Your feedback made this story possible.


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